Writing Her A Lifeboat
by Xx-Regina-Phalange-xX
Summary: "If you asked Richard Castle and Kate Beckett the first day they met, Rick would automatically answer the book launch party of Stormfall...But if you asked Kate, the story would be entirely different..." Rated T for suicidal thoughts and mentions of abuse
1. Prolouge

_I know I should be working on It's Worse and FATEal, but I wrote chapter three of It's Worse in a notebook that's where I can't get it for the next few weeks, so that will have to wait anyways, and I need ideas for FATEal! So, I started another project. In this one, I combined my unfinished 1000 themes with a 300 prompt site and made my own challenge for myself, 1207 prompts!_

_In this, I am going to challenge myself to write a multi chapter fic by using three random prompts from the list to make each chapter. Basically, I randomize them on random .org and the first three numbers that pop up are the numbers of the prompts I'm using for the next chapter. It has to make sense and have a clear plot, not a one shot collection. AND each chapter has to use each of the prompts in some way. Each doesn't have to be a major plot point, but each has to be included in the chapter. *Sighs and smirks* Fun…We'll see how this turns out, I guess._

_This is the Prologue, so it has no prompts, though it was inspired by the prompts for the first chapter. This is written in second person (which was actually pretty fun) but the rest of the story should be written in first person. *Smilez* Enjoy!_

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If you asked Richard Castle and Kate Beckett the first day they met, Rick would automatically answer the book launch party of Stormfall. He would go off into a rant about how she ignored his charms and captivated him by her easy comebacks and platonic flirtation. You would see a glint of glee in his eyes and voice as he tells about their first case together and how he riled her up more than once. We know this story more than they do.

But if you asked Kate, the story would be entirely different. She probably would sit there, thinking for a minute, and you'd see a small smile appear on her face as she stared off into space, completely ignoring you for a few minutes. When she would finally focus, she wouldn't frown or snap or even roll her eyes at memories, just start speaking in this soft voice, adoring, like she was talking about the best day of her life.

She'd spin an entirely different story, one you've never heard before and Castle has completely forgotten. She wouldn't talk about a case identical to Castles books or about a launch party she had been wanting to go to ever since she found out about it. No, her story would start with a depressed college girl, an abusive boyfriend, and an old book. Her story would be about the first time Richard Castle saved her life.


	2. 1: Michael

_I had named this How to Save a Life, but that was way overused, so it's now Writing Her A Lifeboat, which I think is pretty original._

_This is chapter one and the prompts are:_

_*Obey_

_*First Encounters_

_*If You Loved Me_

_And this is what came out._

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"So you can understand my story, let me go back six months to September 19th, when I first met Michael." Kate would start with a smile. You would lean back and fold your hands, ready to listen. "He was actually pretty quiet, so I didn't notice him at first. I would spend my days traveling around campus with my girlfriends. Laughter swirled around our group of five as we sashayed from class to class, excided, jittery, and proud, ready for whatever the world would throw at us, or so we thought.

"I still revel in those days, the simpler times when death was on the TV and not a common occurrence and make-up and boys took precedent. Before my mother's death and Michael, everything was cupcakes and lollipops in my world, and I was just fine with it. Naïve and starry eyed, just like any other youth, is how I met the real world, staring into those deep brown eyes and apologizing furiously. I can't help but think if I had just watched where I was going or steped a foot to the right, I wouldn't have lost my will to live later on, but then again, I probably wouldn't have found Richard Castles books, which would have been a lot worse.

"Anyways, I'm getting off track." She would wave a hand by her face. "The thing is, I met Michael by a complete accident. As I said, I wasn't watching where I was going, floating on my fantasies and giggled with my girlfriends, when I slammed into him, sending my body toppling onto his. We froze for the first few moments, then he seemed to get nervous and I finally realized I could move. I got off him and he jumped up, scrambling to grab his things. I tried to help, but he'd have none of it, thanking my quietly but dismissing me with a wave of his hand. I swallowed and stood there, awkwardly staring at him until he'd gotten everything. He bowed lightly to us and scampered off. My girlfriends broke off into frenzied giggled, but I just stared at his retreating figure and wondered how I hadn't noticed him in the last two years.

"And I didn't see him again for two weeks. Each day I'd look out for him, giving a halfhearted focus on my girlfriends while my eyes scanned the crowds. I didn't even glimpse him. I began to think maybe he'd left the school, so on the last few days, I went back to my studies and books, but when I saw him again, I wasted no time introducing myself.

"I found him by himself in the Fales Library, eyes steeled on the words in front of him. He was hutched over in a wicker chair, his tussled black hair spilling around his face. One hand lay across the book from elbow to palm, keeping the pages flat, while the other made a fist by his hair and propped his head up. His white button up and white washed jeans were wrinkled and dirt smudged all around them, with dots on black all over the lap of his jeans, which I wouldn't identify as blood until much later on." Her smile would slip for a moment before she carried on.

"I was mostly out of my rebel stage my now, but I still felt that need to get guy friends. I used to have an abundance, but all of them were seniors and left this last year, so I was left alone with my girlfriends, wishing for impromptu rock climbing and rope swinging over frigid lakes. He didn't seem like that type, but I thought, 'why not start with him? He could share my interest in other things. Quieter things. Things any of my other friends would pass up any day.'

"I watched him for a minute as I hung out close to the book shelves, watching him occasionally move his arm to turn the page, and then go back to his steeled reading. It was like he was soaking up every word. It made butterflies fly in my stomach.

"Finally, I walked up to him, my heels making a loud clacking against the wood floor. If he heard me, he didn't acknowledge it, at least, not until I plopped myself down across from him and scooted my books to the side. I put my elbows out onto the table and bowed my hands into a hammock like contraption, watching him read.

"It took him a few minutes, but he finished a page and looked up at me. His movements were slow, calculated, like he was working on a bomb. One wrong move and the whole thing would explode, killing all his men and the people he was trying to save. Of course, at that time, I just brushed it off at apprehension. I considered anyone would be if a random person plopped down across from you and started staring. I didn't realize I'd get the same treatment eight years later, although every day. Karma anyone?

"He didn't say anything, obviously waiting for me to explain, but I was enjoying this staring match of sorts and I said nothing, just watching the chocolate color of his eyes dance in the dim lighting. He didn't seem at all uncomfortable and neither I as we sat there for the better part of the hour, trying to figure each other out.

"During this silence, I learned he wasn't very rich, so he must have gotten her on a scholarship. He was used to silence or, at least, not being broken. That interested me. Who learned not to be broken? What had been done to him or what had he seen to prompt this learning?

"I learned he can go without blinking for a very long time, and that his lip had a very small birthmark in the corner, almost unperceivable. It was yellowish, and round, and nothing ugly. It made him cuter, I suppose.

"I learned his hands were overly hairy and that he shaved, often, as in that hour his stubble had visibly grown.

"I learned he didn't get nervous in tense situations. He kept his hands still, on the table and palms flat, unlike me, who shifted every few minutes, he was solid as rock.

"I know he must have learned I twirl my hair when flustered and had an evil glint in my eye when I thought of something mischievous. I know he must have learned I wasn't quiet or silent often, for my lips quirked and I made faces during our session, none of which he really responded to, except the air kiss I gave him. He smiled, if only softly, at that.

"I was the one to break. I bet he knew that. I was the fidgety one out of us, even though to the casual observer we were both too still for normality.

"'What's your name? I didn't catch it.' I asked with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly not expecting me to speak after so long, or maybe, stumbling over my words. He didn't answer immediately though. He sat there, eyes focused on a spot behind my shoulder, like he was thinking. Then, he met my eyes again.

"'Michael.' His voice was low and deep, a common mixture. I smiled.

"'Nice name. I'm Kate.' I didn't reach out my hand and neither did he; we just stared for a few minutes more before I broke again. 'Would you like to go out for some coffee after your finished reading…?' I looked down at his book but the cover was flat on the table. My eyes flickered back up to his. 'Whatever it is you're reading?' My lips quirked sideways and I say him smile tentatively.

"'Think you can wait? I'm only half way through.' His eyes flickered and I was glad to hear some genuine teasing in his voice. He seemed like such a depressed boy and I felt like it was my duty to cheer him up. After all, it didn't seem like he had many friends.

"I snorted. 'I bet _I_ could finish that book in an hour. Cover. To. Cover.' I enunciated the last three words, and each time leaned closer until I was inches from his face. A smirk broke out on his face.

"'I bet I could beat that.' He smugly. 'I've only been reading twenty minutes now. If I'm not done by,' he checked a clock on a nearby wall. '2:58, coffee's on me.' I sucked my bottom lip between my lip, thinking, and then nodded slowly.

"'And if you win I pay.' I said firmly and with a gentle batting of my eyelashes. He didn't seem to notice, just sat back, eyes up to the ceiling like he was thinking. His right hand closed around his chin and he rubbed his jaw slowly. The sight made my stomach flip. He was a ruggedly handsome man, though not even close to the appearance of Ri-Castle. Castle's hair is brown and his eyes are a, uh, nice shade of blue not brown. Plus, he doesn't even have stubble and…"

She would clear her throat and try to fight the rising blush before unflustering herself and pressing forward.

"Erm, anyways, Michael answered with, 'How about, if I win, instead of coffee, we go for a walk around campus.' I quirked an eyebrow at his weird request, but didn't say anything, just nodded and scooted back in my seat, jumped up and sashaying away, letting my hips sway more than normal. I didn't know if he was watching or not, still don't, but I knew this was only about to get more interesting. I could feel it. Unfortunately, my gut was all to right."

She would pause then, eyes sad and disapproving. You would be able to tell how hurt she was. You would want to comfort her, but before you could, she would steel herself again and force a smile, turning back to the good.

"Turns out, he was faster than I expected. He finished at exactly 2:45. I gaped at him for a minute, but put my book down and obeyed. 'Fair is fair.' Before I got up though, I flipped over his book. I was too curious to find out what he was reading. 'The History of All Things Fried' popped out at me in bold orange font and I started to laugh. 'Seriously? This is what you were reading?' I was gasping for air within seconds and he looked sheepish but was laughing himself.

"After our laughing fit, I followed him out of the library, and we walked around the campus just like he wanted. I never knew it could be so fun. We laughed and talked and watched random people as they walked around us. He was quiet most of the time, but spoke up when it suited him, which suited me just fine. I never really got to talk about myself and I was enjoying doing so with someone other than my mother.

"That day I'm betting that whoever saw us assumed we were dating by all the nudging and grinning and laughing going on. It felt that way and I guess it was rather accurate. I still to this day count that walk around campus as our first date.

"Things escalated pretty quickly in our relationship after that day. Within the next month, date two, three, and four had come and gone. Fancy dinners and a soccer match seemed like heaven to my twenty two year old self. I could drink, laugh, and scream. It was a kid's dream.

"We shared our first kiss outside some restaurant whose name I've long forgotten. I forgot my coat and went to grab it, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me in and…well, I sure as hell didn't resist. I didn't have the common sense I do now that I didn't have then. If someone, anyone, grabbed me like that and forced me into a kiss now, I'd backhand them across the face and knee them in the groin. I _really_ wish I'd done that then. A girl can dream, right?

"I don't know exactly when it started. He'd ask me to do things, nicely, like any other guy, but if I denied, he got more forceful. He still stayed sweet, but he was slowly becoming more demanding. "Please" became "if you care about me", just the beginnings of a "if you really loved me" scenario I've seen in 67 battered women to date, especially the dead ones. I know I'm lucky to alive today, but it still scares me, thinking about those days, when he started to push a little too hard."

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_Before I go, I would love to thank my amazing new beta, nikkicaskettlover. She has helped me make this chapter flow better and made me feel like a great writer. *Grins* I would love some comments from my readers though. What would you like? Do you like where it's heading? I don't have the whole plot filled out yet, so I'm open to suggestions._


	3. Bad Luck

_First off, I want to say I'm terribly sorry. At first I procrastinated and wouldn't write. I kept pushing things away (much like I'm doing now) and telling myself, 'I'll do it later', when really I wasn't. Then, my Beta tester got busy apparently and hasn't been able to send me corrections so I couldn't get this up to you. She still hasn't responded, so this is uneditted and may contain many errors. Please bear with me on this. The holidays can be very busy, I know, so I don't blame _nikkicaskettfan_ at all. I just hope she likes this and understands my predicament._

_Second off, I want to thank everyone whos read this, that they have enjoyed it and will continue to...and will stick with me when I procrastinate and make you wait forever to read it(again, so sorry)._

_And third, I wanted to say to Anon Reader: As I showed in the prologue, this story is what Kate would tell you if you asked about the first time she met Richard Castle. I put the quotation in there for a reason. I was using this to help convey her as speaking, instead of writing it down like in a journal. I hope that has helped you._

_Thanks again for being pationt with me and please review so that I may know what you think! Enjoy!_

_Oh, and I realized I haven't been putting a disclaimer in, so here it is. **I don't own Castle in any shape or form. It's all Andrew Marlowes ideas, not mine. I just toy with them for my personal enjoyment.**_

_EDIT: Thank you so much anoynmus reader, for helping me correct the date. I knew I was completly off, but I couldn't find the date, so I adlibed. It is corrected know. Thanks again!_

_DOUBLE EDIT: Sorry, sorry, last time I promise. Heres the prompts:  
>*<em>Safe  
>*No Good<br>*Fudge

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"In my muddled youthful stage I could never pinpoint the start of the physical abuse, but it's ridiculously clear now." Kate would suck in a breath and you would lean forward, interested but sympathetic. She would give you a quick smile, and then say, "January 9, 1999. It was snowing outside, but that's about all I remember about the scenery. What I do remember was pulling up to his house in his (car, black). I remember thinking that I loved that he lived off campus so we didn't have to deal with noisy dorm neighbors and, with his job and hard work ethic, no noisy house mates. Just him and me.

"Before we went inside, he captured his lips with his and we spent another ten minutes exploring each other and letting our tongues dance. I ended up with two hickeys at the end and a huge splitting grin.

"He smiled back at me when he pulled back for air and popped the lock on his door as he got out. I waited until he had shut his door and walked around to my side. I had learned last time to let him open doors and such for me. I knew he had felt like hitting me as we went into a yelling match, but he held back, knowing he didn't have my full trust yet. Eventually I conceded, so know every time I had to wait. It irked me, but it was kind of sweet, in a way.

"Anyways, when he finally opened up my door after searching his pocket for his keys for at least ninety seconds, I clambered out, the grin still plastered on my face." She'd blush at this and rush to explain. "Remember, I was still a teenager at heart and I hadn't had many steady boyfriends by this time." She'd clear her throat.

"Since his keys were already out, he headed up to the door first, and I waited until he'd swung the door open before I swept past him and swayed my hips as I went for the stairs. I let him stare at my ass for a few more seconds before whipping my head around at the bottom of the steps and beckoning him with my eyes. He didn't waste a second rushing after me. He seemed just as happy as me. After all, this would be out first time 'around all the bases' or 'on a homerun' as we called it then." She would chuckle before her eyes went dark.

"Everything was alright at first. We got into the throws of passion, clothes flying everywhere, before he began to get a little rough. Throwing me around and such, you know. The look in his eyes was nothing like I'd seen before. Possessiveness I didn't like. I tried to tell him, but he silenced me with his mouth. Then, he suggested we play master and slave. I refused and a fire went on his eyes." She would suck in a breath. "I experienced my first rape that night. Twice. He wouldn't even let me go then. He groped me a little before settling me down on his bed, his arm a steel bar around my chest. I was shaking, sweating, and naked. It was," She would shake her head. "It was nothing good that was for sure. I eventually fell into a fitful sleep, the bruises on my body all evidence of the truth, that he was really no good.

"The next morning I was sore. No, I was more than sore. I was aching like I'd been thrown off a two story building. And not just the spots where I should. I was dizzy and my arms pulsed pain. When I sat up, I had to fall back down quickly and force myself to breathe, a noxiousness overtaking me. I curled up in a ball and laid there for at least five minutes before I could move again. That's when I noticed he wasn't holding me.

"I made myself sit up slowly and assess my surroundings. His room looked the same. Clean and smart, except for the woman's clothes wrinkled atop the dresser. He'd thrown them all up there, obviously, before he went down stairs. My bra was missing though. I made a mental note to search when I was not as disoriented, but I didn't see him.

"A sharp pain went through my stomach as I swung my legs over his bed. I automatically pressed my hand there and waited. The pain went away almost instantly. I sigh in relief, but confusion replaced my agony when I brought my hand away and saw a stick white clinging to it.

"I looked down at my chest and sure enough, tit bits of whipped cream stick to my body in random places, some that were very uncomfortable. I didn't remember the rapes having any condiments, so I knew he must have done it sometime in the middle of the night…while I was asleep. The thought of it made my stomach contents rush up to my mouth. I forced them down though. I didn't know where the bathroom was but I wasn't about to ask. Getting out of there was priority number one.

"The biggest accessible window in his room was five inches tall and six inches wide. It reminded me of a bathroom window, able to open from the inside for ventilation only. I stifled a sob, knowing I'd have to search the second floor for a window, hoping he was downstairs making breakfast. And if the other windows were all like that one…

"At the time, I pushed the thoughts out of my head and made myself put on my clothes, ignoring any and all discomfort. This wasn't the first time I'd forced myself to be strong, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last, but it was one of the many times I was thankful to be able to do so. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to get out of a ball that day and it may have taken me longer to get away from him. I might not even have-"

Kate would shake her head lightly, as if clearing that thought permanently from her brain. She wouldn't want to think about that, so she'd skip some time to get herself oriented again. "The smell from downstairs placed him in the kitchen, but it was a small victory. None of the other rooms in the second floor had a window big enough to fit a medium sized dog. Balconies were nonexistent.

"I cried then. Let the tears flow down my cheeks and the sobs come out. I'd have to face him again, I knew that, but it was scary and horrible, and I just wanted to run to my, um, mother." She would clear her throat and open her mouth as if to say something else, but push it off. "I finally grabbed ahold of my tears and sneaked back to his room. I still couldn't find my bra, but my purse lay nicely next to where my clothes were and I rummaged through there, eyes flickering to the door every few seconds. I was sure he would walk through it at any time and rape me again. Again, I had to force down the tears before I found my pocket make-up kit.

"I quickly covered up my tears and made myself take some deep breaths. 'You can do this.' I whispered to myself over and over again until I believed it, and then headed downstairs."

She would ask for a glass of water then and you would get it for her, carful to leave her by herself for a few minutes extra before returning, just to let her collect her thoughts. She would sit there, sipping her water, and staring off into space for a while, probably longer than you could keep still. But eventually, she would come back to earth, setting her glass down and folding her hands. She'd lean forward and take a deep breath, just like she described. You would almost expect her to whisper, 'you can do this,' but when she doesn't, you wouldn't say anything.

"He didn't notice me right away. Actually, I tried to sneak out at first, but I'd never learned the proper way how and he spotted me just as I begun.

"'Where are you going, pretty lady?' He purred, gliding over to me and sweeping me up in a kiss. I was tense and unresponsive to him, but he didn't seem to notice, just leaned back with a smile. I made myself crack a smile and bit my lip. _What do I do? _Were my immediate thoughts, but I stayed silent, unable to come up with a good enough answer that _wouldn't_ send him into a rage.

"I knew he was in a good mood when he didn't press me, just kissed my forehead and grinned. 'I made pancakes and bacon!' He didn't even ask if I wanted any, just stuck in hand at my lower back and guided me forward to the table. I plopped down in the chair, unsure of what to do, but he just sat down with me, smiled, and dug in. Seeing I had no other choice, I ate too.

"After I finished and he finished, he reminded me of my dinner date with my parents I had talked so admittedly about. I almost did a happy dance right then and there. Mom, at the time, was my safe haven, my best friend. We told each other everything and trusted each other completely. She would know what to do. She always did." He voice would lower and turn wistful, but she wouldn't pause.

"He let me go then. I didn't even bother him about the bra, just got the hell out of there, remembering to wave. I refused his offer to drive me, insisting I liked to walk. I'd take freezing winds and rain over a small enclosed space with him any day.

"A couple blocks down, the rain turned from sprinkling to pouring. I was happy to let it soak me though. It felt nice to my wounds after the stifling heat of his body. I slowed my pace after the first five blocks and just let myself take my time to the university. The dinner wasn't until seven and my watch read 11:38 am, so there was no need to rush on my day off.

"I ended up stopping at a little coffee shop called Annie's and sitting in my corner booth, people watching for two hours and ordering coffee after coffee. I was so jittery after I left, that I was shaking from way more than the cold. Unsurprisingly, it helped me focus though. Coffee had always done that to me, made me calmer and more rational. Also, happier, but not today. I was the furthest from happy I thought I'd ever be. I wouldn't believe you if you told me how many ways worse this day could be. But I wouldn't have laughed.

"I kept replaying last night over and over in my head, never censured and way too many times. I wanted to forget, but that would never be an option. It never leaves you. That pain. That fear. Never." She'd look about to cry, but only for a second. She was too strong to cry. "I knew there really was nothing I could have done different at that moment, but my mind insisted that I had done something wrong and made me think, and think hard, on just what I had done wrong in.

"It didn't help. I walked around the city twice that day before nightfall, tired and torn up inside. I couldn't wait to talk to my Mom. To pour it all out to her. And I knew just when. Dad would get up to go to the bathroom and I'd wait until he was out of ear shot, and then I would just let myself ramble, let Mom hold my hand, let her listen. I would talk until Dad got back, then regain my composer and finish off the night. When we went home, Mom would have us go upstairs for a while and we'd talk it out. And she'd tell me all of what I needed to do. It would be over then. I'd be done.

"Life's not fair. I've learned that in my years of being a cop. You can plan and plan and wish and wish, but it doesn't change anything. Shit still happens, to the bad, and to the good." She'd sigh and rub a hand over her face. "I met Dad at the restaurant at 6:45. Mom was missing, but that wasn't abnormal. She usually worked long hours and lateness was her thing. I was used to it, though I had hopped tonight would be one of the rare nights she was on time, or even early.

"When seven thirty rolled around and still no Mom, Dad had us order. He made me laugh and smile, and I felt better, even though I was still torn up inside.

"We finished dinner happy and full, so much so I had to wrap my dessert up to go. It was a topper to a great night. Mint peanut butter fudge, my favorite of all fudge, and I had a huge block of it all to myself for several nights. He drove me to their house so we could call her and maybe have a quiet movie night with her if she could come home. If not, he had a plan I was unaware of, and still am, because it never happened.

"There was a detective waiting for us, Detective Raglan. He told us they had found her body. That she had been stabbed to death and left in an ally. I don't remember much else from when we got home, except the smell of mint and peanut butter creating a horribly sweet aroma around my face."

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Reviews or yelling matches. It's all good...just as long as I get something! *smilez*


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